


(i saw the crescent) you saw the whole of the moon

by shiv_roy



Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28574184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiv_roy/pseuds/shiv_roy
Summary: All Clark can think is thathe's the boy.Bruce Wayne is the boy from Clark's dreams.-A different take on soulmates, where they share dreams and nightmares. Cue usual Bruce Wayne repression induced angst.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 28
Kudos: 299
Collections: Bruce Wayne and his ever growing batfam





	(i saw the crescent) you saw the whole of the moon

**Author's Note:**

> In this particular AU, you can interact with your soulmate in your dreams but you can't see them until you meet them in real life. It sort of is plot relevant but I don't think I've put it directly into the story and I've sat on this fic for so long that I'm too tired to try to work it in. 
> 
> If the descriptions of some dreams are weird or hard to picture- it's on purpose, because I wanted the dreams to be messy and weird like in real life. Don't read too much into it, just know that Bruce and Clark can sort of save/comfort each other.
> 
> Thank you for bearing with this. 
> 
> Title is from The Whole Of The Moon by The Waterboys. It's such a superbat song, so you should check it out.

Clark is fourteen when he gets his first soul dream. He wakes up in a cold sweat, not knowing what had happened. He doesn't want to alert his Ma and Pa, because it's around four in the morning, but he remembers the vivid quality of it and he's sure what he saw wasn't his own dream. It was his soulmate's. He tosses and turns for two hours before it's time to get ready for school. 

He can't stop thinking about this dream that was not his own. An alley shrouded in darkness, a man and woman lying dead in the middle of the street. And a boy kneeling between them, hunched and very obviously crying into his hands. When Clark takes a step forward, he brings a ray of light with him. As he moves closer to the boy, the boy stiffens and Clark is sure he's noticed him. Clark feels like an intruder. This clearly isn't meant for his eyes. 

And yet, Clark can't stop going closer to the boy. He can't see anything in the alley clearly, but the ray he's brought with him lights it up more and more with each step he takes until the couple lying dead around the boy are covered in it so starkly, the look pure white, like they're reflecting all of the light. The rest of the alley is pale and washed out, a white so dull it's almost gray. By the time Clark has made the decision to touch the boy's shoulder, there isn't a place in the alley not lit up.

Clark moves his hand, just a touch shy from being on the boy's shoulder and the boy starts to turn, but before Clark makes anything of his face, they're touching, just the fabric of the boy's shirt between their skins, and everything explodes with a flash.

Clark just knows it's his first dream. There's no way he could dream up of something like that. He doesn't tell anyone- he's made it plenty clear (and publicly) that he isn't really a fan of the whole soulmate thing. It's been the object of many-a arguments with his parents, who knew they were soulmates within weeks of meeting each other. He's even gone so far as to say that maybe soulmate dreams are mass fever dreams. It's his goal in life to be a investigative reporter and unearth soulmate dreams as a scam. He's fourteen and stubborn and he simply cannot have a soulmate of his own.

So- he doesn't tell his parents he had a dream. Still, the dream's affected him. Over the course of a few days, his teachers notice and friends notice and his parents too, and Pa tries to give him the talk while they're cleaning the barn one day.

"Remember son, even if you find your soulmate as early as tomorrow, you don't have to do anything with them that you don't want to," he says.

"I'm plenty sure I don't have one, Pa," Clark says bashfully, which earns him an admonishment and a lecture on why he shouldn't say that and Clark forces himself not to reply. The next dream comes after so long that by the time it happens, Clark's convinced himself that it _was_ a fever dream. It's been two years and he's sixteen. He's already in too much shit- with his powers kicking in and Ma and Pa telling him how they found him and having to work twice as hard at school so he can get into the University of Metropolis. 

In this dream, he's in a cave. There's noises coming from the far side of it- noises that sound like bats. Once again, like last time, it's dark as a night sky without stars and when he enters, it's with a small ray of light and he knows what this dream is. What the darkness is. What- who is at the end of that cave. Has an inkling on how the dream will end. But Clark is nothing if not a rebel. He turns on his heels and stomps into the light behind him, leaving the boy in the dark. Carrying on and on and on till he can't open his eyes and he's suffocating from the light and can't feel himself. His whole body feels like it's on fire. He tries to go back but he can't, and he knows the dream won't end till he goes back. 

So he shuts his eyes and tries to think of the alley, the night, the cave, the sound of the bats. He does it maybe for hours, or maybe only a few minutes- he can't tell. But he's suddenly back in the cave again, only facing the light this time. He chokes on his breath for a moment. When he turns to the pitch black of the cave, he can't see for a long time because his eyes are so blinded by the light. But he still moves forward, trying to follow the sound of the bats. They seem to form a never ending cloud around the boy from his first dream. Clark can only see the pale back of his neck because he's hugging his knees, his head bent over them. As he moves forward, the light follows him, like last time.

The bats start screeching, louder and louder as Clark brightens the cave up with every step. When he nears the cloud of bats, they break their swarming on the boy right away. Clark just stands a few feet away from the boy when all of the bats clear away and waits there till the boy stops quivering. He stiffens as realization of Clark being there dawns on him- it's obvious. His neck snaps up but his back is still to Clark and he still can't see the boy's face and it frustrates him to no end. So he just stands there, waiting for the boy to turn. Clark knows you can't see your soulmate in the dreams. Not unless you meet them. You just can't- that's just how it's always been.

Clark knows the boy won't turn. So he touches the boy on the shoulder again and the world turns to light again. Clark spends the rest of the night wide awake and tossing and turning, again. He can't stop thinking about the boy. Again.

The dreams let Clark off for another two years. He gets into the University of Metropolis without a problem. Ma and Pa are so proud of him. They throw him a farewell party and his friends and people he's known his entire life are there. And he's leaving them behind. There's this sense of underlying panic to his excitement, but underneath, he knows it's okay. He knows he can't stay here. He gets the third dream that night, after he's said goodbye to everyone on the night before he moves away from home.

It's his dream this time. The last two were the boy's, but this one is Clark's. His heart is thudding from the start. In the dream, he's adrift in space. There's a giant red star in front of him, and light coming from it slows him and grounds him. Clark knows he can fly, but suddenly, in the red sun's rays, he can't. He knows he doesn't _need_ to breathe but he starts choking. He knows he can resist gravity if he wants to, but he starts falling, father and farther into the star. The light is too much and his skin prickles and sears until he feels like it's already burned away and the heat has gotten to his flesh.

And then when the white starts melting away and the star starts shrinking in on itself, Clark knows the boy is here. The dark feels cool and dry and comforting. Clark feels parched in the throat, tears prickling his eyes when he tries to clear it. He can feel the boy behind him. His presence is cool, welcome after the star's unforgiving rays. Clark can feel the boy's hand hover over his neck. Every single hair on his body stands when the back of his finger brushes Clark's neck. And then the world goes black.

Clark wakes up and gulps gown as much water as he can, folding his sheets and going out to sit on the porch, because he feels like he'll suffocate if he doesn't. He closes his eyes as the sun rises, forcing a breath out of his mouth, thinking that there's something to be said about his sanity if he's telling himself the sun won't kill him. The thought is so silly it almost brings a smile to his face. Almost. Then he hears Ma start to get up and super-speeds into the house. He's got a big day ahead of him.

He's confident he won't get another dream for two more years, but he's surprised when he gets a dream at the end of his freshman year in college. This time, it's the boy's dream, and they're in the alley again. The man and woman dead at the boy's feet and there are pearls strewn all over the ground. The boy is holding a gun. Clark doesn't know how he knows, because the boy's back is toward him. Clark can tell the boy is looking at the gun, like he killed these people, but he didn't. Clark just knows he didn't. He knows what he has to do. He lights up the alley again, with every step he takes. The boy doesn't react to this presence at all except for slumping his shoulders. 

Clark wants to comfort the boy, he wants to say something, but his voice doesn't work. He knows he will fade away when he touches the boy, but he doesn't want to go. He can tell the boy is clearly going through something. He just stands behind the boy, not touching him. They stand there till the boy drops the gun. This time when Clark touches him, the world doesn't turn to light and the touch lingers. Clark slowly moves his hand down the boy's forearm and the boy shivers. Clark can feel it too, his skin is singing when it touches the boy's. Clark tries to turn him, but everything turns white again. 

Clark wakes up in his dorm. He's sweat through his shirt, but he has gooseflesh on his arms at the same time. He shivers when a light breeze comes in through the window. As his brain replays the feeling of his hand on the boy's, he groans and buries his face in hands, because-because it was so obvious the boy was his soulmate and there was nothing he'd experienced that even came close to how he felt when he touched him. He starts to rub his arm to get rid of the chill from his skin, but his own touch starts to feel inadequate in comparison to the boy's. Clark wants to scream or yell, because he doesn't even know if he believes in soulmates. He realizes in the morning that this dream is more than a year too early.

It gets worse. He dreams with the boy almost every night for almost two weeks. Each time it's the same dream as the first one. The boy standing over what Clark starts to assume are his dead parents, or sitting between them, holding their dead hands and letting tears slip from his eyes. His back is always towards Clark, so he can't see of course, but he always knows. The boy with tears in his eyes and a splatter of blood on his cheek. Sometimes clutching pearls from the broken necklace that Clark knows is his mother's.

It starts to worry him. He couldn't have these dreams this frequently. He couldn't deal with it every night. He could barely deal with having one every two years. He decides to stop sleeping entirely, to avoid the dreams. He knows not being from earth he can technically go without sleep for long periods of time, but sleeping every night does keep him fresh, rested. It's definitely healthier to sleep every night, but Clark can't deal with this boy and his problems. The part of his brain that Ma would most definitely be proud of is reminding him of the third dream, the one where the nightmare was _his_. How he would feel to be left alone. He banishes the thought in a fit of anger.

Even if this guy _is_ his soulmate... Clark doesn't know how he feels about losing sleep over him, he doesn't even know him. But it isn't like Clark's giving up sleeping entirely- he starts taking naps at times of day when he is sure the boy wouldn't be sleeping. It becomes so natural for him to not have a sleep schedule that he almost always stays up at night, only sleeping in the broad daylight. His record is three months without sleeping by the time he's finishing up the second year of college. When the year ends and it's break and he's back home, he starts feeling really horrible about it. 

When he finally goes to sleep, at a somewhat appropriate time, he dreams, which he's expected. It is Clark's dream this time. 

He stands in a room, as bright as the sun, light pouring in from everywhere. In the centre of room was a pile of the green stuff Clark knows from digging it up in his backyard. This thing... it was apparently the only thing on Earth that could hurt Clark after his powers kicked in. Make him feel sick, even. Pa usually only took it out only while cutting Clark's hair, and when he'd taught him to shave. Eventually, they'd found that powdering it and lining a blade worked better. But Clark remembers starkly the first time he'd dug out a big piece of it.

Headaches, nausea, vomiting, a little fever. Things he'd never felt before had happened to him just from being in proximity with it. In the dream too, he starts to feel sick. Every time he blinks, the glowy, green pile seems to get bigger, surrounds Clark, and he can't move. All he can do is clutch his throat when it's at his foot and all he can breathe is the vile smell of it. His eyes start to water, his throat starts closing up in earnest. He tries to blink the tears away, but it's no use. He's surrounded by it. Clark has no idea how long he just stands there, until he's finally allowed by whatever controls these dreams to slump on the floor, retching.

It could have been hours, or days he just lays there, begging for just about anything to come save him. 

The boy's there. Clark's sure of it. He just isn't helping Clark. Maybe it's payback for all the times Clark let him go through all those nightmares alone. Clark starts to hate the boy, just a little, in his mind. Clark gets the message, but he was dying. This is a dream, but it feels so real he can't take it. Clark's half passed out, mind in a dull state even in the dream, when the boy finally makes a move. Clark blinks and half of the green around him disappears. He tries to make a choked sound, but as is usual in these dreams, nothing comes out. In a few minutes, there is nothing there but Clark lying on the floor, still trying to regain his breath. He can feel the boy's eyes boring into his back.

Somehow, Clark knows he's holding the last of the thing that could kill Clark. He wonders what would happen if the boy did kill him in the dream. Would they stop being soulmates? Clark's sure the boy will do it- put an end to whatever this was so they could both sleep without any dreams to mare their nights. But the boy lets it go. Clark knows because suddenly, he feels okay. Like nothing has happened to him. Just a ghost of pain in his chest. Clark sits up and runs a hand through his hair, taking deep breaths. A sudden pang of guilt hits him for thinking this boy hated him. That he wouldn't help him. That he wouldn't save Clark even if Clark hadn't saved him.

Clark feels him walk towards him till he's directly behind where Clark sits. He sees a calloused hand reach out, hovering over his cheek hesitantly for a moment. Clark closes his eyes as he feels the fingers brush against his cheekbone, ghost over his cheek. His skin tingles almost painfully where it touches the boy's. Impulsively, he leans into the touch. _I would never_ , the touch sings. _I would never leave you alone._

Surprisingly, it doesn't feel like the _like you did_ is implied. It feels- it feels unconditional. The dark the boy brought with him hasn't progressed like usual. It creeps in slowly as the boy cups Clark's cheek, covering everything in a muted gray till it all fades away. When Clark wakes up the next day, the sun is up and the birds are chirping and he can hear Ma making breakfast downstairs. He touches his cheek right where the boy had, and he'd be lying to himself if he says he isn't blushing.

He doesn't know what to make of that- but he's feeling happy in a way that has been uncharacteristic of late. He decides not to read into it though: the sun is up, the birds are out, Ma is probably making his favorites for breakfast, and he has a blush on his face. It's enough to keep him smiling for the rest of the day.

After that, Clark gets some of his sleep schedule in order. He's sleeping at night, for one. But the dreams don't return. Not over the break, not over the next few months. Clark starts to get worried. Is the boy avoiding him the way Clark had? But then, Clark hasn't gotten any dreams of his own either... maybe the nightmares had paused. Clark starts growing restless after each dreamless night. He never thought he'd actually want them to happen, but he's getting nervous about- about the boy. 

Maybe he's been right about it all along- maybe this was all a big fever dream. Maybe he was lucid dreaming. But the dreams don't return. Clark graduates, gets a job at the Daily Planet- it's nothing glamorous like a reporter at first, but he's sure he'll get there. His friends- from both Smallville and college- start finding their soulmates and getting married.

He gets a... nightlife.

Being Superman isn't easy, but he has his Fortress now and he knows a lot more about being Kryptonian. Like the green stuff from his backyard- that's Kryptonite. The only thing on earth that can kill him.

More importantly, Clark learns that he can save and help people. Even if it's a cat from a tree. That's the best thing about being Superman. His life develops a very strict routine. Accidents, muggings, bridges collapsing, fires, earthquakes, floods. It becomes everyday for Clark. At first he can't stop thinking of the dreams- of the boy- but they don't return. Then slowly, he stops thinking about them.

Another two years pass without them and Clark doesn't even notice.

He gets promoted, gets a slightly bigger apartment, gets slightly better glasses. Meets Lois. She is... she's like no one he's ever met, and a wonderful reporter. If there is a story, Lois is there. Clark, of course, avoids any stories that could put him into limelight, because he doesn't want attention on himself. She still tries to talk him into taking over some promising lead or tip that's sure to go on front page. 

Over the first year that he comes to know her, Clark falls in love. There is no other word for it. Even if she isn't his soulmate.

Their first date is insanely awkward. Clark goes to the bathroom twice for more than a few minutes- a mugging and fire respectively, but Lois doesn't say anything, just looks at him funny. He still gets a second date. Then Starro attacks Earth. 

Clark had known, both as Superman and from his journalist work, about others out there who helped people. Wonder Woman was well known and loved, of course. Clark had even done a story on her once. Then there were Green Arrow, Black Canary, Flash and Green Lantern. If he hadn't met them, he'd definitely heard of them. A lot of good things.

The only 'hero' out there who he didn't really know by the time the Justice League was formed was the Batman. He'd heard the _stories_ all over, of course, and Lois had even written an article comparing his methods with Superman's that despite being an amazing piece got bumped down to the society pages. In the early years, when he'd visited Gotham to take quotes from 'almost victims' that Batman had saved, (another effort on Lois' part to get him to take bigger stories,) he'd expected people to be scared, or in awe, but all he was was a hush. A whisper. A myth. People only spoke his name in a murmur and parents used it to make their kids behave. "Be good, or the Bat will get you in the night." And Clark had found nothing. No one had talked. Clark had wondered if he was even real. 

He's at his desk later at night than he should be when he voices it to Lois. All he gets is a pursing of lips. 

"Of course he's real, Smallville," she says after a short silence. "We won't have a story otherwise."

Her way of telling him to get back to work. When he gives her his finished draft, she whistles as she completes reading it, giving him one of her intense, searching looks. She doesn't say anything except tell him that it's a damn good article.

Strangely, this and the whispers in Gotham City leave Clark thinking of the Batman the way he thinks of his dreams: real, but only vaguely, and in a way that leaves him in constant doubt of what they are. So when he hears the Bat on the field for the first time, growling at people to get out of the way, Clark's super senses zero in on him instantly and his head snaps up at the man's voice. When he first sees him, herding a bunch of people to safety, he's strongly reminded of the boy- man if he's grown with Clark- from his dreams. His lips part in surprise before he hears Wonder Woman yelling for his assistance.

After that, Clark can't stop thinking about him. He keeps hoping and hoping and hoping, but never makes a move to interact with him one-on-one. Batman doesn't either. It takes one meeting, two emergencies, three threats to global security before they even speak directly without a room full of people between them. 

The months after the first big disaster are a rush, a hurry to get a base, to collect more people, to best prepare for threats to earth. Meetings upon meetings upon meetings, with the United Nations, with governments of almost every nation in the world. No one wants their country to go unprotected. Tens of hundreds of congratulatory events, fundraisers for orphans, for those affected by wars, for animals and everything else under the sun. He takes a month long leave from the Planet at the time. It feels like he's lived more and more as Superman, as the Kryptonian, as the alien, than as human. 

It takes two more years for things to quiet down. Clark is in his cramped apartment, having just arrived from a busy night and taken a hot shower. He's tired, both physically and mentally, his break-up with Lois still weighing on his mind. It had been mutual. And Lois had been clear that her soulmate dreams- something of importance to her, apparently- didn't star him.

He's ready to crash for the whole weekend when his Justice League comm starts blinking. He sighs and groans, a little more than annoyed at whoever's requesting a meeting at five in the morning. He knows it's a meeting because there isn't anything major really going on that he can hear. His annoyance almost disappears entirely when he finds that it's Batman requesting a meeting with him and Wonder Woman. Privately. He's ashamed at how fast he suits up and flies to the Hall of Justice. Batman is in one of the smaller meeting rooms, and Diana hasn't even left. She looks even more tired than he is.

"Clark is here. What is it, Batman?" she asks, nodding at Clark as he enters. Batman gives him a long look of acknowledgment. Clark really wishes he didn't wear white-out lenses. He's sure those aren't lined with lead, but Clark isn't the type to peek. Batman begins in his usual monotone low growl.

"The Hall of Justice isn't enough. I'm sure you two have had similar thoughts. It's too public and we don't have equipment here that we will need to foresee threats and protect the earth adequately," he says. That's true enough. For now it worked, but Clark is sure they'll need more in the future. 

"I have plans ready for a something like a Watchtower. If we put something like that in the earth's orbit, it will last us for long, and efficiently," he continues. "I have the funds and the infrastructure. But I need you both to know who I am so we can proceed with this."

Diana smiles knowingly, as if she had been expecting this. Clark though... his heart starts thudding. He's going to know who Batman is, right now. He trusts Clark with that. Clark feels his muscles tense with anticipation. Batman turns and takes off his gloves and then his cowl, revealing a shock of dark black hair. Then he turns and Clark's heart almost stops. 

Bruce Wayne stands in front of him, hair slick with sweat and purple rings under his dark blue eyes. Diana smiles and thanks him again, for trusting them with the information and for the League funding both, and gets up to shake his hand, and Clark just stands there. He... he knows Bruce Wayne. Because Bruce Wayne is the owner of WayneTech and Wayne Foundation (and the Daily Planet), on the face of a tabloid almost every month, drunk at every gala he goes to, Cat Grant's crush and an overall ass.

Bruce Wayne can't be Batman. Except that he is.

Clark finds himself mirroring Diana's actions, murmuring a thank you as he extends his hand to this Bruce, who looks completely different from the tabloids. When their hands touch, Clark's vision goes dark, just for a second. The kind of dark he hasn't seen after the last dream. The skin of his palm tingles the way it did in the dreams. When he blinks and looks directly into Bruce's eyes, he sees his expression mirrored there. _He knows, he knows, he knows, he's the one, he's the boy_ , his mind runs a loop. Bruce's soft lips part by a millimeter. 

Diana says something to them, joking about how Bruce is technically Clark's boss and the moment breaks. Bruce drops his hand like it's fire and says something snarky. Clark doesn't notice anything except the quick thud of Bruce's racing heart, though nothing shows on his face or body language. He chats amiably with Diana about letting a few more members know about his secret identity. 

All Clark can think is that _he's the boy_. Bruce Wayne is the boy from Clark's dreams. Suddenly, it all makes sense. The couple lying dead in the alley. The bats. He's sure Bruce is mentally making the same connections about the red star and the Kryptonite. Diana leaves to go home and rest, instructing both of them to do the same, and then they're alone.

Clark wants to do something. Maybe talk to Bruce. Maybe ask him about the dreams. Maybe touch him again. But Bruce turns to him, the most tired expression on his face, and in a surprisingly soft voice, tells him to get some rest before pulling on the gloves and cowl and leaving the room. Clark just sits there for a few seconds before going back to his apartment again. That indescribable feeling from when he touched Bruce replays in his mind over and over till he forces himself to go to sleep. And then of course, he dreams. 

This dream isn't like the others. Clark stands in a garden where the ground is soft white and the sky is a warm sort of inky black and everything else is a muted shade of grey. Clark knows it's not completely black or white because they met today, touched one another today. He suspects it won't be a nightmare. There's a man standing in the gazebo at the centre of the garden, facing away from him. Always facing away from him. 

Except when Clark approaches, he turns and it's Bruce. His hair flutters in the breeze. He takes Clark's hand and his entire body feels alight with happiness, because- this is his soulmate touching him. Clark admits it to himself, at least. Bruce leads him to the other side of the gazebo so they can watch the flowers together, but Clark can't stop watching Bruce. Bruce, who looks so beautiful while watching the flowers. 

And then Clark does something that feels incredibly stupid. He kisses Bruce's hand, still tangled with his, softly. Bruce doesn't acknowledge it. He looks at the garden still, and all Clark wants is for him to look back. Bruce looks at the flowers and Clark looks at Bruce. They stand there for ages and ages, the entire time Clark wishing Bruce would just look at him.

Ironically, as the years pass and they have the Watchtower and Bruce adopts kids and loses them and gets them back, and Clark finds Kara and gets Conner, all throughout the aliens and the secret missions, all Clark wishes is for Bruce to look at him. Meanwhile, Clark's hatred of the entire concept of soulmates only grows but it's just because his won't even look at him. There are several dreams over the years, of course. Bruce watching as a teenager walks away from him, never to come back. Bruce cradling a dead boy to his chest. His daughter not even knowing him. His father figure dying by his incompetence. Sometimes, a group of people, everyone he loves, all dead in the cave. And the alley. Always the alley.

That 'everyone he loves' doesn't include Clark, but he's there. In every nightmare, he holds Bruce close and kisses his hand and tones down the hurt he feels about never seeing himself in the group of people Bruce loves. 

Clark's dreams are empty. It's always the same dream. He stands in an empty, pale lit place and no one comes. Clark finally knows how Bruce must have felt the entire time Clark wasn't sleeping and had effectively left him alone. He sits alone and exhausted from being alone until he wakes at ungodly hours in the morning. The entire time, Bruce acts like nothing is amiss, like he doesn't live all of the worst experiences of his life every other night, like Clark doesn't see it, like they aren't soulmates.

Like Clark doesn't love him. 

Clark tries to act like nothing's off too, because the mission demands it and nothing is more important to Bruce than the mission. Instead, Clark sees the tabloids speculate about Bruce's love life, sees pictures of him with a different girl on his arm every other week and listens to Cat Grant talk about who Bruce is dating like it doesn't burn him up inside to hear. And then Lois figures it out. She just says, "Oh, Smallville," and hugs him for the longest time. Other than her, he's pretty sure Alfred knows. He's never said anything, but Clark has gotten one too many understanding looks from the man.

Not all of it is sad, though. Clark has worked with Bruce- with the whole team or just the two of them- many many times. There were times Bruce's nonchalant façade broke and he smiled at Clark with just enough softness that it made Clark sure his dreams weren't his own imagination. Sometimes they'd talk about the kids or reminisce about the old days, when their duties were much less demanding. Sometimes, when Clark returned from off-planet, Bruce would look at him like he was drinking in Clark's very presence. Sometimes after a dirty fight, anyone who was in the field would hit the showers together before going off and Clark would studiously avoid looking at Bruce, only to find Bruce glancing away from him.

 _It's just a soulmate thing_ , Clark tells himself. _It isn't something he can help_. Because nothing would ever come out of being hopeful with Bruce and it didn't have to mean anything unless Clark let it. Besides they have an excellent work relationship, which he just can't ruin. Bruce, Diana and Clark have to be on good terms for the League to function. They were the leaders. But that string of thought didn't help that every time something particularly bad happened in the field, Clark's ears would find Bruce's heartbeat immediately. It didn't help that Clark's heart skipped a beat every time Batman entered a room. It didn't help that sometimes when they were in close proximity, Clark's heart started racing for no reason.

The only time they _have_ talked about being each other's soulmate was three years ago, and so vague, it barely even counted. It was after a fight they'd almost lost. Lex Luthor had been involved, which meant heavy amounts of Kryptonite were present as well. Clark had almost gotten himself killed trying to save Bruce, rushing into the thick of things with no thought to the idea that there could be Kryptonite there. Bruce had visited him at the Watchtower infirmary, in full Batman regalia.

"Don't," he'd said in his low growl, "endanger the future of the team like that again."

"For you," Clark had said, voice surprisingly level, "I can't not." Bruce had moved from the foot of the bed to the side and took a seat. Clark was surprised when he took off the cowl and leaned his elbows on his knees, shoulders slumped. He looked tired, so tired. The rings under his eyes dark and a gray hair or two streaking from his temple. A few lines at the side of his eyes more prominent. Clark didn't mind the aging. How could he think Bruce was anything less than beautiful?

"We can't, Clark, you know that," he'd said, his voice very unexpectedly soft.

"I do," Clark had said back, feeling his throat tighten with unshed tears. Bruce sighed and got up and put on his cowl before walking away. The Kryptonite had been a near miss to his heart, but Clark healed fast, especially with the solar bed. He knew the tightness in his chest wasn't just from the wound. It had been there for years now. 

After that, Clark had gone away. A three year off-planet mission whose job description suited Superman's abilities smoothly. Kara had stood in for him with the League. Clark had taken a sabbatical from the Daily Planet, graciously funded by Bruce Wayne. And maybe he'd volunteered because he felt some time away from Bruce would do him good. Maybe he was running away hoping that when he returned, he wouldn't feel gravitated to Bruce like the earth to sun.

The mission is high priority, but low-key. High stakes, but only series of undercover jobs, and Clark was amazing for gathering intel. Clark's dreams stay distressfully empty, except one time, towards the end of Clark's second year away from Earth. 

They're watching the flowers again. Bruce sits beside him, leaning back on his arms a little, his hair fluttering in the breeze. Clark is so overjoyed- he hasn't seen Bruce in two years, has had no contact- his entire body feels like it's on fire- like he might die if he doesn't touch Bruce right now. So he extends his own hand and places it on Bruce's. And Bruce smiles, soft, light, like he's content, and Clark feels so happy it's stupid- because he brought a smile to Bruce's face with his touch. 

And while his body isn't burning anymore, the touch feels so small, so inadequate that Clark has to move a hand up and tilt Bruce's face towards his own, has to make sure Bruce sees him. And when Bruce's eyes meet his, his heart skips a beat- the way it always does when Bruce looks at him. He'd expected something else- what with his body basically on fire from lack of Bruce's touch- it's just his heart, skipping a beat as it always does.

 _Maybe that's what love is,_ Clark thinks. Not huge declarations and grand gestures and chance meetings and the entire universe conspiring to make it happen like in the movies. _Just my heart skipping a beat when you look at me._

As if reading his thoughts, Bruce's face melts, softens infinitely, and he smiles with the slightest hint of teeth before leaning in, so easily, and presses his lips to Clark's, closing his eyes just as they touch. And before the tightness in Clark's throat can manifest in a real way through tears, he wakes up. There's green colored blossoms flying outside his room. Spring has arrived overnight on the constantly snowy planet he's currently on. 

_Just as well,_ he thinks, and gets back to work.

He thinks that because the dream, it'd be easy seeing Bruce when he got back. But his stomach is a tight ball of tension as he straps his seatbelt in the Green Lantern spaceship that was assigned to take him back home. He doesn't think it's the mach 4000 flight speed though: it's his changed appearance. He's grown out his hair and it's shoulder length, and his suit is black and silver, better suited to stealth missions... he wonders what Bruce will think of it. He wonders if Bruce will even be there to receive him. 

He's absently tapping his fingers on his thighs as he scans the welcome party waiting on the other side of the chute where the ship will connect to the Watchtower. There's Diana, Kara, Conner, Dick- Clark's heart picks a pace for a moment, because if Dick is there, it must mean that Bruce is too- but a single scan around room clears that he isn't. Clark's nervous energy falls away almost immediately.

Diana welcomes him with a smile and hug, asking him how he is, how the journey was- the mission was a success of course, but there will be time for that later. Clark exchanges hugs with everyone else, there are remarks on his hair, and Dick snaps a pic which Clark is sure will spread throughout the entirety of his family.

"So what are the stats, how is... how are things," he asks, biting his tongue out of asking about Bruce. Diana throws him a looks but doesn't comment.

"Things are good, every project we had going either have been successful, or are ongoing or discreetly shut down," Diana says. "Kara stepped very gracefully in your shoes- and they're very big shoes to fill, Clark." She ends with a proud sort of smile and Clark can't help but smile back.

"Not to her, or you... or Bruce." 

"You and Bruce are very different people," Diana observes, and Clark watches as she seems to struggle for something internally, then sighs and pulls him into a small, deserted meeting room.

"Oh Clark," she says. "He missed you. I mean, we all did, but he was... he wasn't doing good when you left. I mean, he was efficient, but something felt almost missing. He has been so restless. Clark, I always suspected with you two, but his behavior over the years, and yours on occasion, has confirmed it to me," she says. "I'm so sorry, I know this is very unprofessional, but as a close friend of yours, I couldn't help but tell it to you." She looks guilty.

Clark's heart is thudding in his chest again, at the thought of hurting Bruce, of leaving him alone again, but he forces himself to speak.

"It's okay- honestly," he says with a sigh, running his hand through his hair. "I just- I don't know what I expected, going away." He takes a pause, and Diana continues looking concerned. Finally, he asks, "Where is he?"

"He's on a case. Overseas," Diana says. Clark sighs. Bruce doesn't go out of Gotham. If he's left around the same time of Clark's arrival... it's on purpose. He sighs and rubs his face, pushing back errant strands of hair.

"Alright," he replies to Diana. "I'm going to sleep off this horrible, planetary equivalent of a jet lag for a few weeks."

Clark goes back to the farm in the week after he returns. Ma is completely baffled by his hair, and doesn't know what to think of it. He laughs it off and savors her cooking after three long, long years. When he sleeps in his old room, it reminds him so starkly of being a kid, not knowing what to make of his dreams. So much has changed, and so much is the same. He wonders when, or if, it will end, if he will get to kiss Bruce's mouth, have Bruce's fingers run through his hair and groans at himself for thinking like a teenager in a romcom.

He goes to sleep, finally, and immediately falls into an uneasy dream. He stands in front of Wayne Manor, while it rains and thunders occasionally. It still has the same washed out quality as the other dreams, although there's much more detail. He can't tell if this is his dream or Bruce's. He tries to push open the door, but it's firmly locked. When he tries pushing off the ground, that doesn't work either. He frowns and wanders off to find the entrance to the cave. It's not there.

There's nothing for him to do but stand around and wait until he wakes up, hyperventilating and drenched in sweat. The clock on the wall reads 4:30 a.m., and he knows something's wrong. Something's wrong with Bruce, in particular. He has to channel every ounce of will not to fly out of the window right this second and find Bruce. He ties his messed up hair in a bun and opens the drawer to take out his League comm. The Watchtower is active at all times. Someone must be on monitor duty.

"This is Superman," he says, turning it on.

"Martian Manhunter on monitor duty," J'onn says. "Is there any situation we're missing?"

"Yeah, well no. Sort of-" Clark hates fumbling with words. "I- I need an update on Batman's mission. Batman's current mission, that is. The one he's on right now."

There's silence on J'onn's side.

"You know we don't give out mission details like this, especially over comms," he says.

"I'll fly there right now," Clark responds quickly. Then realizes how pathetically desperate that sounds. "I'm sorry, I have... I have reason to believe Batman is in danger."

A long pause again. "How about I start a new, more secure comm channel and tell you there," J'onn says lightly. 

"That would be good, thanks," Clark says, nodding. Three minutes later, J'onn tells him that Batman cut off communication three days ago and his last known location, and Clark is halfway across the world over a dream and a hunch, madly trying to find Bruce's heartbeat. His own heart is roaring in his ears and he can barely feel anything. He just closes his eyes and concentrates and zips over to the faint thudding, the faintest he's ever heard it. Sure enough, Batman is lying in an abandoned alley, the visible half of his face covered in blood, and his cowl smashed in. He's curled in on himself, hands pressed to a wound in his abdomen. Mission gone wrong.

Clark starts shaking, because the sight, the blood, it's so much, but he can't. He's going to survive. Bruce is going to survive. There's no other alternative, because it's unthinkable.

He surveys the damage, smoothing his sweaty palms over his thighs to stop the shaking. He scoops Bruce up in his arms as tenderly as possible, trying not to move him, and flies as fast as he can without moving Bruce to the best hospital in Gotham. There's a sudden flurry, panic even when Superman flies in and demands Leslie Thompson operate on a near dead Batman. He won't allow anyone who isn't Leslie to take the cowl off, but stands by while the doctors use industry grade tools to hack the Kevlar off Bruce's chest to start fixing what looks like a deep stab wound. Soon, Leslie arrives and takes over and there's nothing left for Clark to do but wait.

The dream makes sense now. If Bruce had a head injury that was as serious as it looked... it made sense that Clark was locked out from his dream. It terrifies Clark, that Bruce might think he left him alone again. He wants to shake Bruce alive and swear on Rao that he will never leave him. But he can't. Instead he's here in the Watchtower med room where Bruce has been moved a few days post-op, waiting for the doctors to finish their assessment of Bruce. He's been in a coma for a week and Clark refuses to go to sleep and stand helpless in front of Bruce's door.

"We have to thank Master Clark," Alfred says into the tense silence. Bruce's kids all exchange weak smiles with each other, or nod at Bruce, and that's that. All of them look tired beyond their years, and especially Alfred, who Jason has forced to sit in one of the chairs. When the doctors arrive, it's not good news.

"He's in a coma," they say. "There's just no telling how long it will last. There was some pretty serious brain damage and it's mostly recovering, but we can't tell for sure until he wakes up."

"Is there absolutely nothing we can do?" Tim asks. "Anything at all?"

"Well..." The doctor is hesitant. "We have _some_ scientific proof that in these sort of comas, the person who is under can communicate with their soulmate via dreams. Sometimes it helps the recovery. That being said, there have been very little studies on this, but it couldn't hurt to try if you know the soulmate."

Clark's heart leaps into his throat. He can help. He can help Bruce. All he has to do is go to sleep.

The room goes sort of silent. Some of the kids exchange uneasy glances, like they know this is a lost case and Clark is suddenly reminded how they don't know, how it never comes up, and it hurts a little, but he still knows what he has to do. The pause is heavy.

"I need to go," he says abruptly, but Alfred stands, puts his hands on Clark's shoulders. He looks sort of defeated, but there's a knowing look on his face. 

"Thank you my boy," he says, and Clark nods before flying back to his apartment. He showers and changes and pulls the covers over his shoulders comfortably, but sleep refuses to take over. He closes his eyes but nothing. All he can think about is Bruce and his lazy heartbeat in a hospital room. All his general frustration has converged on this immediate threat, and he can't help but feel angry at Bruce, who refuses to let people help. Who refuses Clark, who's done nothing but love him. 

He turns over to the other side, but there's no comfortable position. His eyes feel wide open and he can hear his neighbors moving around. He pushes the blanket aside and sits up, running a hand through his hair and stays still for the longest time.

He can't sleep.

"I'm trying," he tells Alfred. "No progress, though." He feels like he's lying to the old man, maybe to spare his feelings, maybe to spare his own. He feels wide awake every second and finds his attention focused on Bruce's slow beating heart more often than not. One day he goes to visit him.

"I'm sorry," he says. Thankfully, none of the family is here to see him brush a finger over Bruce's hand, because isn't that pathetic. Clark can't even bring himself to hold his hand properly and feels his throat tighten with tears. He brings up a chair and decides to sit there till someone comes because there's nothing else he can do while he isn't saving Bruce. He's taken the day off from work. He's taken the day off from the League. 

It's not surprising, he supposes, that when he finally, _finally_ , falls asleep, it's at at Bruce's bedside, his hand covering his gently.

It's the Manor again in Bruce's dream, and it's locked, like before. When Clark pushes off the ground, he can hover for a bit, so he jumps off the fence and stands in front of the heavy mahogany doors, and pulls his fist back.

It takes four tries, but Clark is desperate. He can feel the splinters but he doesn't care, just brings the doors down and runs into the dark Manor. Every wall has a photo of Thomas and Martha, and their young son, aged eight, smiling for the camera.

"Bruce!" he calls, angrily. "Bruce?!" He searches the Manor, left to right, top to bottom and finds nothing and no one, just the portrait of Thomas and Martha, mocking him. He stands in front of the grandfather clock and breaks it down too, and tries to go down to the cave, but there's nothing but darkness there. 

He's almost given up when he suddenly remembers he's been looking in the wrong place, and it's like he gets his powers back. He can suddenly surge into the air and fly over what's an identical replica of not just Wayne Manor and the cave, but the entirety of Gotham. And there he is, in the alley. Kneeling over pearls, like always.

"Bruce," he says, landing beside him. "Bruce, look up." He holds a single bloody pearl in his palm. Clark kneels beside him then, and covers up his fist, braver in his dreams than in real life, and says, desperate, "Bruce, look at me."

There's childlike grief on his face, like he's inconsolable. Clark pulls him into a hug and cradles him and Bruce clutches at his back, but it doesn't feel like a victory. So he pulls Bruce back and cups his cheeks and looks him straight in the eye.

"Look at me," he says, trying to sound stern. "Look at me! Are you looking at me?" he asks Bruce, loud as he can. Bruce nods, slowly. "Okay- okay. I need you to do something. Can you understand, Bruce?"

He waits patiently for Bruce to nod again, then continues. "I want you to listen carefully: This happened decades ago. You've been sad for a long time, Bruce, but you need help. You have a houseful of children. You have Alfred. You have... you have me. And not having you has taken its toll on me and- I don't want to live like this. I, I love you. I can't stop, and I can't do anything about it, because you don't want to, and it's fine! But please, for their sakes if not mine, can you please- _please_ \- let this go? I- we need you Bruce. We need you back here."

Bruce stares at him like he's regaining his senses, little by little. A single tear rolls down his cheek and onto Clark's fingers and he leans in and plants a kiss on Clark's lips before dissolving into the night. The world turns dark and all Clark can do is sit and hope that the nightmare will end soon.

-

"Clark!" He opens his eyes blearily to see Dick bent over him, a cast of faces just as worried as his appearing behind him. "Alright, alright, don't crowd him."

"Jesus Christ," Jason mutters and visibly sags with relief against the walls. Almost everyone else is having a similar reaction. 

"Bruce," he says suddenly. His voice sounds throaty and scratchy. "I-"

"He woke up," Tim says. "You- you and him, you guys. I mean." He looks sheepish.

"He means we know," Dick says gently, handing him a bottle of water. "You were sleeping in a chair beside him, screaming in your sleep, and then he woke up, and he was hysterical for a bit, wouldn't let your hand go. We had to sedate him. But he woke up last night, and he's okay now... so that soulmate thing worked. I guess. But you got knocked out."

Clark stares. "How long was I out?"

Dick cringes a little. "'Bout thirty-six hours. Give or take."

"Oh," is all he can say.

"He'll want to see you," Jason says. "It's the only thing he's said in three days. That he wants to see you as soon as you wake up."

Clark doesn't feel afraid. There's closure, joy even, in just having Bruce know. "I want to see him too."

Bruce is reading in his personal hospital room and they're left alone almost immediately. Clark leans against a wall and crosses his arms. Bruce has looked up since he entered the room and hasn't looked back down. The effect Bruce's singular attention has on Clark hasn't faded over the years, is still exhilarating.

"Well?" Clark says, surprised that he sounds sort of angry. To his surprise, Bruce smiles bashfully.

"It was stupid of me," he begins. "And I'm sorry."

Clark raises an eyebrow. "Stupid of you to what?"

It's surprising to see Bruce blush. Clark doesn't think it'll ever get old. 

"Stupid of me to..." he sighs and rubs his face. "It was stupid of me to not be with you for all these years. When I could have been. It was stupid of me to not- to not kiss you and hold your hand and, well..."

He looks embarrassed but like he doesn't mind it. Clark decides to give him a contemplative pause, but it's fake.

"Apology accepted," Clark replies primly. "And yes, it was really, really stupid. I don't need protection, you don't need protection, and we're better as a team."

"There's nothing wrong in that statement," Bruce says, and he's still blushing but also smiling teasingly and Clark can already feel his grudge slipping away. 

"What, do you want me to say thank you for the acknowledgement?" he asks instead.

"No," Bruce replies. "I want you to come over here and kiss me."

If Clark uses super-speed and gets dizzy, no one has to know, and it's fine because he's laughing and Bruce is laughing between the kisses, and the bedframe's dented the wall, but he's in Bruce's arms and he couldn't care less about it right now. 

-

It takes them some time to get used to each other in this new way. They're both grown ups with entirely different lives in addition to their superhero personas, they're bound to trip over each other. Alfred and the kids are happy for them, relieved that Bruce won't die an old maid. They visit Clark's parents too, who are thrilled and teasing, and Bruce joins them, much to Clark's disdain. Bruce's schedule is horribly packed, but he reassures Clark that he's meant to ignore most of it and takes him on dates so often it's Clark who has to cancel sometimes. 

Clark says 'I love you' easily, in passing, with greeting hugs and parting kisses and when he flies in to Gotham to help. It takes Bruce some time to say it, but he doesn't really need to, because he's said it to Clark a million times, just without the words. 

They visit Bruce's parents' graves and Bruce lays flowers there but ends up staring at Clark instead of the graves.

"What?" Clark asks. He can feel a flush rising in his neck.

"Just you," Bruce says, and kisses him.

Their dreams start to separate. Sometimes Bruce wakes up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and Clark brings him a towel and a spare shirt and holds him till the sun comes up. Sometimes, they do other things to take their minds off of it and Clark has Bruce under him, blushed and writhing, until he forgets what the dream was in the first place and his vocabulary goes down to Clark's name and a few expletives.

Sometimes, there aren't bad dreams and Clark wakes up to Bruce staring at him like he can't believe it.

"No dreams?" he whispers.

"No such luck," Bruce whispers back. "But I liked this one a lot. You were in it. And you were old."

Clark rolls his eyes before he realizes. Bruce is smiling and waiting and Clark smiles back and leans in to kiss him. It feels like coming home.

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> idk if this is worth mentioning, but the title is from Bruce's pov, because Clark, despite his misgivings at the start, always wanted to be with Bruce and Bruce, like I've said in the text, is an idiot and couldn't see it.
> 
> Leave kudos and comments if you liked this


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